


Thrall

by DemiFaun



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Somnophilia, Vampirism, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:31:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiFaun/pseuds/DemiFaun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is this dubcon? I think this might be dubcon. Anyhow, little AU ficlet revolving around Jim being enthralled to a very toppy vampire!Seb Moran. Does fucking someone while they're comatose count as somnophilia or what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrall

Jim shuffled against the couch, shifting his weight against the plush leather and suede. He'd paid for the couch, for the flat it was in, for the rich rug on the floor, but none of it was his. Not anymore. He shifted again with a soft rasp of lace-on-leather and let out a long breath. The most powerful man in England, probably one of the richest, and he was... Owned. Had he been even a little less under that spell, he would have rejected the term. As it was...

"Jim."

His head came up with a snap, eyes glazed. Sebastian stood calmly in the doorway, hands in his pockets. Jim slid off the sofa to kneel on the carpet, rasping hot against his bare knees. "That's better. I won't punish you this time... But." One shoulder moved in a slight shrug, though his expression didn't change, and Jim trembled. That was enough of a threat to keep him wary, keep him right on the edge between loyalty and terror. Sebastian watched him for a moment from the doorway, and in the time it took Jim to blink he was right in front of him, lifting his chin with a finger.

 

There was no sound of footsteps crossing the room, no sense of movement. Seb was simply at the door, then he was in front of Jim. Pale eyes skittered across Jim's face, a calloused thumb resting on his lower lip and dragging his mouth open, slipping over the moist inner surface of his lower lip. Sebastian's hand lingered a moment before he dropped it, and it was a second more before Jim closed his mouth. He moved in a blink again, sitting in his chair near the false fireplace Jim had had installed. "Here." One foot tapped the rug in front of his chair.

 

Careful not to rough his knees up too much on the carpet, Jim shuffled across the floor to kneel in front of the wing-backed chair. Very classical, very old; Sebastian looked out of place in it in a heather gray tee, narrow dark jeans, and heavy boots. Jim put a hand on the blonde's knee to lever himself up and Sebastian pushed him down, watching. He sank down to his knees again, legs tucked neatly under him so he could sit on his heels. After another long moment of watching him, that essential eye contact, Sebastian beckoned him up.

 

He levered himself off the floor with a hand on Sebastian's knee, hissing with the shift of stiff muscles after sitting for the entire afternoon. The hand on the blonde's knee moved to the wing of the chair and Jim sank down into his lap, knees not-so-comfortably resting on either side of the other's hips. "That's a good boy..."

 

Blunt fingers traced the line of his hips, the V of muscle and bone arrowing down into the skim of lace barely covering his groin. Not that it hid very much; Even soft, as he was now, Jim's cock was clearly outlined through the holes in the fabric. Sebastian smiled almost fondly down before lifting his gaze to Jim's eyes again. The Irishman's breath caught in the back of his throat, hand tightening on the wing of the chair. Sebastian hardly needed words to enthrall him anymore; a look was enough, the blue of his eyes gleaming so pale they were almost white. "Did I do as I told you, pet?"

 

"You want me open and ready." Jim's voice was flat under his accent, black eyes locked on Sebastian's. "Well fed so you will be when you come home."

"That's a good boy..."

Jim flushed with the praise, almost purring like a cat. Sebastian's hands tracked back along the edge of the lace, following the dip of Jim's back where it curved into his arse, the small hollow of his spine. He shuddered, back arching and his hips rocking down against Sebastian's thighs. The movement was met with a smile, a flash of gleaming fang under the blonde's upper lip.

"And are you?" Sebastian's hands slipped downward, curling around the curve of Jim's arse and hauling him forward. Jim hissed and tigthened his grip on the wing of the chair beside Sebastian's head, fingers digging into the rich fabric. The blonde's fingers curved in, and Jim let out a low keen when he tapped sharply on the glass plug worked into his arse. Even he seemed surprised, eyebrows arching briefly upward toward his hairline.

"How long has this been here, pet?"

Jim shifted down against his lap, letting out another high, keening sound as Sebastian's fingers rocked the plug a little deeper. "Since you left at lunch. You wanted me open and ready."

"I did. But where did you get this?" Through the red lace, he managed to get a grip on the flat base and give it a twist, making Jim's head toss back as he gritted his teeth against the shock of sensation. "I remember buying you toys, but never this..." He twisted it again and Jim rocked down into his lap with a gasp.

"I... Ah, gods... I got it for myself. Just in case." His head tipped forward again, chin on his chest and his eyes half-lidded. Sebastian chuckled, low and rough.

"Ah,. pet... If I didn't know you better, I would have to punish you for this. Buying toys without asking me? Tsk..." Another twist, harder this time, and Sebastian pulled a little; Jim keened and trembled against him, throat working. "But I did want you open and wet."

He let the plug go, letting it settle back into the clench of Jim's arse, and the Irishman crumpled against him with a ragged exhale of breath. "I want something else first, Jim." The roughness of the voice against his ear made him start, lifting his head and catching Sebastian's eye again. Blue flicked to white and Jim went lax, slumping in Sebastian's grip. He was still awake, some part of him anyway, but Sebastian never left him fully conscious to feed. Even with Jim deep in his thrall he would still fight it, thrashing at the feel of teeth in his throat. They had found that out the hard way the first time. It was almost a miracle that Sebastian had been able to bring him back from the brink.

With Jim little more than dead weight in his hands, he cradled the back of the other's head with one broad hand, holding him steady to sink fangs into his throat. Jim twitched weakly in his hands, deep enough that he didn't feel any more than an echo of the pain, and Sebastian held him a little tighter. The hot copper spill of blood into his mouth was enough to make him moan unashamedly, runnels of red dripping out the corners of his mouth to run down Jim's chest.

 

He fed until Jim's breath came in short gasps, chest heaving against his own despite the thrall. Red streaked Sebastian's chin and mouth, running down over the hollows of Jim's collarbones and chest. Withdrawing his fangs he closed his mouth over the bite, laving the flat of his tongue over it until the punctures healed and he could pull away to lap the trails of half-clotted blood from Jim's torso. He left Jim bespelled, his usually manic black eyes soft and vacant. A dribble of blood had run almost down to the rim of red lace around Jim's hips, and Sebastian had to lift the limo body and drape it over his shoulder to lap up the drops. Jim stirred weakly, still breathing in short, laboured gasps as Sebastian brought him back down to his lap. A thought was enough to have them both in the bedroom, Jim naked as the day he was born and the glass plug sitting neatly on the nightstand like a clever ornament.

He rarely brought Jim around for this part, either. It was better when he was soft and loose, a plaything in Sebastian's ancient hands. It didn't matter that he made no sound, that he was as good as comatose; he didn't always like what came out of Jim's mouth in the throes of... Anything. And Jim never protested. Not that he could, anyway, with Sebastian's hold over him as strong as it was. Pressing Jim's slim legs up to his chest he drove home in one thrust, sliding into slick, loose heat with only a little pressure.

Jim stirred, eyes half-opening, but Sebastian's eyes flicked to white again and Jim went limp, glassy-eyed and soft-mouthed. He caught that soft, pliable lower lip in his teeth and pulled as he snapped his hips forward, rattling the headboard against the wall. Jim's feet, over his shoulders and somewhere above his head, bobbed with the motion.

With a flush of fresh blood in his system, Sebastian was tempted to draw this out. Feeding meant he could probably go for the rest of the night, holding his orgasm off until he was ready to burst with it. But Jim was already strung out under him, weak from blood loss and deeply bespelled. If he wanted to have a plaything  _left_  at the end of the night he was going to have to wrap things up quickly.

Sliding a hand between them, he pressed a hand down on Jim's belly to hold his hips to the bed and slung both legs over one shoulder, forcing the slick muscles around his cock to clench. The sensation was enough to make him hiss and duck his head, pistoning into Jim's body in rapid, shuddering thrusts. The headboard thumped rhythmically against the wall, rattling the few pictures they had bothered to hang in here, and Sebastian was coming with a shudder and a groan that he muffled by sinking his teeth, fangs still sharp and extended, into the meat of Jim's thigh. He lapped the bite quickly to seal it over, leaving only a bruise and the faint outlines of punctures behind.

Jim wouldn't come out of the thrall before morning, so he allowed himself to collapse beside the thin body on the bed; he let out a long 

unnecessary breath and stared up at the paneled ceiling over his head.

\--

Jim woke in the morning with no recollection of the feeding, the lace, or the glass plug. It was all cleared away long before daybreak, along with all evidence of Sebastian's presence. Apart from a distinct soreness in his back and belly and a mysterious bruise on one pale thigh, he felt fine.

There was a text waiting for him on his mobile when he finally rolled out of bed.

_You know where to reach me if you need me, boss. SM_


End file.
